


we were wrecks before we crashed into each other

by beastieboys



Series: good stories are bad lives [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Corpse Desecration, Dom/sub Undertones, Existentialism, F/M, Matricide, Mommy Issues, Mother Complex, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Season/Series 01, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 14:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastieboys/pseuds/beastieboys
Summary: Your job as a ticket seller for the traveling circus takes a sharp turn when you catch Jerome Valeska murdering his mother less than twenty-four hours after you had sex with him on her bed.
Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Reader
Series: good stories are bad lives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208552
Kudos: 11





	we were wrecks before we crashed into each other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy/gifts).



> hi!
> 
> this was a request from Foxy, so i hope you enjoy! i got a ... bit ... carried away, but i hope it still suits your fancy!
> 
> chapters/series titles all from "sober to death" by car seat headrest :-)

Your job as a ticket seller for Haly's Circus was easy. You didn't have to move around like the rest of them, as they only employed you for Gotham's shows and a few other local ones, but every time they came around, you got a call, showed up, and traded cash for authentic little tickets pulled right from a roll. Your favorite thing about working for the circus, despite your limited employment, was the celebration they had after a successful show. Booze and weed passed around the cast and crew, no matter the age, until it was all gone. Stories shared around a bonfire outside the sideshow tent until the early light of morning. It didn't matter if you were the ringleader or the hot dog vendor, you were part of the gang. 

You loved being part of the gang. Everyone at Haly's was sketchy for sure, but it gave your otherwise dull life a fringe of excitement for a couple months out of the year. You tried working at Fish Mooney's club when you were sixteen, but you were too young, she said, go get involved with something outside of the mob, she said, so you stomped your angry teenage ass to the nearest diner, where you met a cook that had a sister who worked for the circus. Three years later, here you still were, drinking and smoking with the Lloyds and the Graysons, despite their century-long feud. You supposed drugs and alcohol were enough to soften the grudge every once in a while. Or every few nights, as it ended up being.

Undoubtedly the best part of the entire experience was the tango you danced with the snake charmer's son, Jerome Valeska. You grew up together, kind of, seeing him a few months each year for the last three years, but despite this you still know so little about him. He wasn't part of any acts, he just seemed to hang around his trailer or wander off into the woods. He was quiet, but you could tell every time you saw him that his brain was teeming with... _something._ He was always lost in thought, it appeared. You weren't even sure if he had a formal education, but his demeanor told you that he was probably the smartest person there. 

Something about him made your skin crawl every time you saw him. His words would trickle out of his mouth like liquor, and you felt intoxicated by his mere presence at times. 

And Jerome knew this, too.

He kissed you before, once. The year prior. He pulled you to the woods and planted one on your mouth, opening your lips to slip his tongue in. It was awkward, to say the least, and you assumed it was his first kiss, but there was something about the way he held you firmly by the arms as he explored your mouth that made you feel like you had no control over the situation. He was in charge, this _kid_ a year younger than you had total command over your mouth, and if he had pushed it, your body, too. But he stepped back after a minute, licked his lips a few times, his eyes dragging back and forth as if he was processing your saliva. 

"I enjoyed that," he had said, and he walked away, leaving you in the woods alone before you could even comprehend what happened. 

As you sat behind the counter at the ticket booth before the Thursday night show, the line of eager Gothamites stretching beyond your sight, you felt a soft breeze on the back of your neck. You turned and jumped in your chair at the sight of Jerome Valeska, dressed in a red knit sweater and khaki pants. 

"Hey," he said quietly, firmly, gazing directly in your eyes.

"Hi," you responded, allowing yourself a moment to catch your breath. 

Jerome took the seat beside you as you returned to your job, taking crumpled dollar bills in exchange for small red tickets. Jerome leaned toward you suddenly, when the patrons of your booth were adjusting in the line, and breathed on your neck.

"How much longer?"

"I have to sit here until the line is gone."

"Hm," he hummed, "Pity."

You exchanged another couple tickets for bills, and Jerome backed out of your personal space to look at you intently, waiting for your reply.

"What are you on about?"

"I'm bored," he said simply.

"Get a job," you replied without looking at him.

Even though your eyes remained forward, you could see a mischievous grin spread across his face unlike anything you've seen from him before.

"You're funny," he said, and you looked at him then to find his expression neutral, making you question whether you saw anything strange at all. 

He leaned close to you again. "Why don't you come and get me once you're done here, and maybe we can find something fun to do?"

Though you kept an indifferent attitude, inside your chest your heart sped up a little. There was an air around his words that sounded almost _sinister_ coming from such a quiet boy's gentle lips. You weren't stupid, you knew there was more to him than he let on, but frankly, you weren't sure _what_ that "more" was and why he was exposing some of it to you of all people. 

"Sure, Jerome," you replied, exchanging tickets and cash mindlessly. "Yeah, I'll come find you when I'm done."

You figured it beat sitting there playing Brick Breaker on your flip phone until the show was over. You weren't missing the bonfire for anything. Free booze and weed for a nineteen year old might as well have been a share of Wayne Enterprises. 

"Fantastic!" Jerome stood from the seat beside you.

Once he left, your stomach sank in your chest as you realized you just agreed to hang out with the weird kid who kissed you flatly and left without an explanation. You weren't sure if you were in the mood for any awkward make-out sessions or whatever Jerome had in mind. You couldn't deny he was alluring in some ways, but that only goes so far to make up for his tactless approach.

Your stomach turned with anticipation as the ticket queue dwindled. Once the music blasted from the large circus tent, and the last couple in line eagerly bought their tickets and rushed to the entrance, you flipped the sign on the window to _closed,_ counted the cash in the box once, twice, and three times, and wrote the total on the scrap piece of paper always left in the box for that exact purpose. You closed up your booth the way you have a couple dozen times now at least, flicking the single lightbulb off and locking the door to the booth behind you, leaving the cash box under the counter as instructed.

You stuffed the key in your pocket and shivered in the brisk air of greater Gotham, buttoning your overcoat as you searched the circus grounds for bright red hair. For a moment you were tempted to look in the woods beyond the hill near the grounds, but that urge was cut short when you spotted Jerome leaning against his trailer beside the wooden cage that held his mother's snake. 

You waved at him, catching his attention, and he smiled at you, hiding his teeth. 

"Hi," he said simply.

"Hey."

"Would you like to come in?" Jerome pointed at the trailer behind him. "My mother's out."

You'd gotten to know Lila Valeska over the years, and while she seemed nice enough, you've seen enough strange marks on Jerome's face, neck, and arms to decide for yourself that there's more than meets the eye. And you'd really hate to get caught in her trailer at the risk of Jerome's safety.

But Jerome's not stupid, especially if your hypothesis is right about his mother, so you supposed he wouldn't invite you inside if there was a chance he'd be punished for it. 

"Uh," you hesitate, "Sure."

Jerome rubbed his hands together briefly in order to warm them up, then he turned to the door to his trailer and opened it wide, allowing you to enter first. You climbed the three stairs it took to reach the entrance and stepped inside, allowing yourself the chance to look around as he followed behind you.

The trailer was as cramped as it appeared on the outside. The combination kitchen/living room was cluttered with unwashed dishes, dirty laundry, and books that looked a decade old at least. Towards the back of the trailer was a tiny bathroom, which you could just glimpse in through its cracked door. Near the bathroom was a small section hidden from you via a curtain that seemed haphazardly strung across the top of the trailer, hanging lopsided down until it reached the floor. The front of the trailer had a partial wall with a sliding door that you assumed led to a small bedroom, probably Lila's.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Jerome asked from behind you, startling you out of your observation. You turned to look at him, and though his expression was soft, you could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"It's nice," you lied back in attempt to be polite.

"It's been a bit hard to clean up the past few days," Jerome explained, unprompted. "Mother has had a few guests over and it becomes rather difficult to focus."

Without elaborating, Jerome moved past you toward the curtain. He pulled it back to reveal a small, almost triangular shaped bunk bed shoved into a corner, the top bunk above your line of vision, and the bottom bunk missing a bed, replaced by a rotting chair and small shelf nailed to the wall.

"It's not much," Jerome said, gesturing toward the nook in all its glory, "But it's the one place in this whole trailer the _whore_ can't touch."

His eyes darkened when he mentioned who you assumed to be his mother, and once again you felt that sinister atmosphere around you. _Oh God, what if he murders you?_ You brushed off the thought, knowing that Jerome had a lot beneath his surface, but _murderer_ probably wasn't part of it.

Then again, what did you know? 

You approached his nook, bending down in order to trace your fingers along the books on the shelf. There were a few comic books, a couple leather-bound notebooks, and some decrepit books with library tags still on the bottom of their spines. 

"See anything you like?" Jerome asked. "You can take one, I'm sure the library has replaced them all by now."

With your back turned to him, you furrowed your eyebrows as you read the titles of the books he offered you. Why was he being so nice to you? Especially when his collection consisted of books like _Taxidermy for Beginners_ and _One-hundred-and-One Knock-Knock Jokes._

"Thanks, Jerome, but I'm okay," you replied. 

"Suit yourself." He sat down in the chair behind you as you tried to stand up.

Unfortunately, you stood up too fast and slammed your head against the wooden underside of the top bunk. You wailed and lost your balance, falling onto Jerome's lap. He caught you with ease, almost as if he knew it was going to happen. Surely he'd done it himself a few times. 

"Not much room in here," Jerome said, looking down at you as you recovered. "That's really my only complaint."

His hands gripped you firmly, and strangely, you didn't try to leave them and stand up again. The tight hold he had on you stirred you in a way similar to that night in the woods a year or so ago when he had just taken hold of you and kissed you _his way._

"Your brain is churning, I can feel it." Jerome's eyes searched yours as he waited for a reply.

"Just in pain is all," you lied, trying to sit up in order to stand.

He held you in place, making your pulse quicken.

"I've been thinking about this moment for a long time," Jerome said plainly, and you still weren't sure if he planned to kiss you again or kill you.

_What was with you and murder?_

"What?" you replied. "Holding me in your lap like a baby?"

"Something like that." 

Jerome leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. They were soft like you remembered them, but unlike last time, they had a force behind them, a focused intention that told you he would not be so amateur as he was before. This time, he knew how to mold his lips against yours slowly, patiently, proving within seconds that he was the one in control, the one commanding the kiss. It took your breath away. When you pulled away from his mouth to take a deep breath, he allowed you only a moment before plunging back in, capturing your lips in his, snaking his tongue gently across your teeth.

As you granted him access to your tongue, his firm grip on you changed, and he pulled at you until you sat upright in his lap, your legs bent on either side of his thighs. The old chair creaked beneath the shifting pressure. Jerome brought one hand up to hold the side of your face as he explored your mouth. 

Your core tingled with excitement over his sudden expertise, but you realized he must have practiced with someone else over the course of the last year. A sudden jealousy flooded your brain, pushing its way to your lips, and you intensified your end of the kiss. He matched your intensity tit-for-tat, swallowing your passion like liquor. 

You pulled away from him, and he grinned as he watched a string of saliva expand in the space between you. Your breathing was heavy, and his chest was heaving too, his eyes lidded as they looked up at you.

"Was this your plan all along?" you asked, unable to help yourself.

"Some of it."

The trail of spit fell between you due to its own gravity, and Jerome must have taken this as a sign to start again because his mouth was on yours again before you could say anything else. 

Your head was spinning; his taste was unlike any other you'd ever experienced. There was something sweet about it, but it became more and more savory, intoxicating, as you swallowed more and more of it down your throat. 

Jerome's hands began to travel down your body, from your shoulders and arms down to your thighs and back up. He avoided your _sensitive_ areas, which were the ones you found yourself aching for him to touch the most, as he teased goosebumps from your skin and grinned into your mouth. 

From beneath your jeans, you felt something press against you. You knew it was his erection, and despite everything you told yourself about how _weird_ Jerome was, how nothing about him made sense, how you knew there was someone hiding beneath this façade and you had no idea who it was, you still moaned against his lips at the feeling.

He chuckled lowly, shifting himself in order to press against you harder, making your core buzz with anticipation, want, _need._ How you ever allowed someone in khakis do this to you, you'll never know. But in that moment all you knew was those pants needed to be off, _off, off._

His fingers found the buttons of your overcoat and one by one he slipped them out of the fabric holding your coat closed. With the last button, he released the coat and you shrugged it off easily, leaving you in your dark grey sweater, complete with your enamel name tag pinned over your heart. Jerome disconnected your mouths and took the name tag in his hand, inspecting it for a moment.

"They really make you wear this? Why would anyone need to know your name?"

"To make me feel less like an object, I guess."

"But that's all you are to these people. A _tool_ for them to use."

"And what am I to you, then?"

"Hm," Jerome sat back and tapped one marred finger to his chin. "I'd call you my _plaything."_

The look in his eyes was wild, untamed, like nothing you had seen from him before as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled the both of you from the chair, ducking his head, cradling yours in his hand as he left his nook. He carried you into the closed-off room at the front of the trailer, sliding the door open quickly to lay you down on the bed behind the wall.

Your entire body was on fire as he crawled over you, connecting your lips again hungrily, as if you were his lifeline, like he was drinking the blood from your mouth, feeding on your desire. Quickly, you pushed him away, sitting up on your elbows.

"Wait," you said, and he growled lowly, impatiently. "Isn't this your mother's bed?"

"Yes," he replied, then he bent down over you again. You sat up a second time, and Jerome rested back on his knees expectantly.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Jerome smiled then, his eyes dark. He leaned forward on top of you, his lips gracing the shell of your ear. "I want her to smell our sex when she returns tonight."

His words made you shudder. You should have been disgusted by the idea, repulsed by the implications, but you were more aroused than you could ever remember being. A pair of hands, one rougher than the other, trailed under your sweater, teasing your skin gently, tracing swirls and circles up your torso until he reached your bare breasts. He gripped them tightly, making you gasp, arching into the rough touch. And just as soon as he had grabbed them, Jerome let go of your breasts, tracing his fingers along your nipples lightly.

He sat back on his knees again, helping you remove your sweater. He lifted it over your head and tossed it to the ground carelessly, following it with his own sweater. He was not buff, per se, but as you felt along his chest and stomach, trying your best to ignore the yellowing bruises, you noticed muscles just under his skin, as if they were waiting patiently to be made public. 

Jerome flipped the two of you over, sitting you up on his lap as he lay on his back, eyes gazing up into yours. You leaned down to press your lips against his, finding a strange comfort in this newfound familiarity, as he took your hips in his hands and rocked you against his groin. You kept the pace, moaning quietly in his mouth when your clit rubbed perfectly in the friction of his bulge against your jeans. 

His kisses grew hungrier, and he bit at your bottom lip, pulling it away from your mouth, relishing the sweet _pop_ it made when he released it from his teeth. You weren't exactly sure what was happening, but Jerome was shifting into someone you didn't know. His gentle voice became low, raspy moans, his soft touches became firmer, and the look in his eyes when you broke the kiss was absolutely _monstrous._

Your body was so hot, scorching underneath the burning red sun of Jerome Valeska. You knew then that you were in over your head, that sex with Jerome would not be as forgettable as you'd assumed, this wasn't simply passing the time until the bonfire, this _was_ the bonfire, your skin sparking with his every time they touched, flint and steel, gasoline and a cigarette lighter. You drank him in, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of your clit rocking against his bulge and his hands groping at your breasts roughly, wanting _more, more, more._

Without thinking, your hands traveled between the two of you and made work undoing the button of his khakis and pulling down the zipper. Before you could reach down into the contents, however, Jerome reached up and grabbed you roughly, flipping you once more in order to pin you down on the bed by your wrists.

"Eager, are we?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. You nodded, unable to play coy, your head empty save for the repetition of his name in your head like a mantra. He laughed at your inability to bite back, gripping your wrists tighter in his hands.

Jerome's mouth traveled down your neck, sucking lightly enough to form small hickeys until he reached your breasts. With his tongue, he traced around your areola, feeling each bump that rose like braille, studying you, memorizing you. He dipped his tongue in the small dent of your nipple before closing his mouth around it, nibbling and sucking on it. You moaned, your wrists straining against his hands. You wanted to touch his hair, drag him in closer, keep him there.

In a gracious act, he released your wrists as he switched nipples, dragging his hands down to the edge of your jeans. It was his turn to undo the button and the zipper, only this time he succeeded in ridding you of your pants, lifting your back briefly to pull the jeans down your legs. For a moment his mouth disconnected from your breast, but once he ridded your ankles of the denim pooling around them he was back on your nipple as if he had never left. 

With a loud, wet noise, he kissed your nipple before pushing himself down your body until he was facing your clothed pussy head-on. He took one finger and stroked it up and down the outer folds, drinking in your moans, then he stopped to pull the finger to his nose and sniff it.

"You smell _good,_ babydoll," Jerome said, the pet name catching you by surprise. You gasped, and he took that as an opportunity to lick a long, wet stripe up your underwear. You moaned deeply.

The wet stripe ended at the hem of your panties, and with his teeth, Jerome pulled them down until they reached your knees. His hands did the rest, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothes. 

"Spread 'em," he commanded, pushing your knees apart. Without hesitation, you opened your legs to him, lifting your knees in order to allow him closer access to your sopping wet cunt. 

He spread your pussy lips with his fingers, almost clinically, inspecting your bare pussy in all its glory. The cool air sent shivers up your spine, and suddenly you felt exposed, vulnerable to him with no shield to hide behind. 

Jerome leaned in and lapped at your cunt, the slurping noises he created absolutely obscene. His tongue found your clit and teased it gently, circling it, going slower and faster almost at random as you mewled above him on the bed. You could feel him grin against your clit, his teeth tough against your sensitive bud. Then he lowered his face and dipped his tongue in your needy hole, slurping the wetness up once again, only this time he picked up his face, which you discovered was shining due to your slick, and spit a glob of your arousal onto the corner of his mother's bed, laughing as it sunk into the comforter. His laugh was gleeful, but there was a hint of something dark there, and it startled you. 

Before you could react, ask questions, change your mind, Jerome was back on you, his face buried in your pussy, his nose nudging against your clit as his tongue inserted itself in your hole over and over again. Your body heat rose until you truly believed you were floating, floating on flames of desire and conquest, and your core coiled around itself.

"Jerome!" you exclaimed, sitting up abruptly in order to grab his hair and keep him in place.   
"I'm close!"

He hummed against you, continuing his pace, but he added one of his fingers alongside his tongue inside you, curling it up to rub against that sweet spot within you. 

This Jerome was much, much more experienced than the one who had kissed you only a year before. 

His calculated ministrations became more erratic as he felt you clench around his finger, as if testing your resolve, seeing what sets you off. His finger became two as he lifted his head to look at you. He was back to his soft face, smiling warmly as his eyes connected with yours.

"Come on, babydoll, cum all over the bed," Jerome said, and again it should have weirded you out, but it only sent you reeling. "Cum for me."

As if your body had been waiting for permission, you convulsed violently, curling over yourself as you climaxed, moaning with abandon. Jerome slowed his fingers as you came down from the high, grinning as he pulled his fingers out of you and wiped them on the comforter. 

Your mind was blank, wiped, it was a miracle you could remember his name at all, yet _Jerome, Jerome, Jerome_ were the only words that formed when you tried to think. You looked up at him through lidded eyes and watched him yank down his pants and underwear in one swift movement, his fully erect cock bouncing upward to rest against his stomach.

He wasn't freakishly long or girthy, his dick was wonderfully average, though it had a strange texture, appearing scarred like his hand did. It startled you a bit, and he chuckled.

"Don't worry about how it looks, babydoll, let's just focus on how it _feels,_ hmm?"

He climbed onto the bed, spreading your legs around him as he approached your sensitive cunt, and though you had just barely caught your breath from your orgasm, you had a feeling you were about to lose it again. Jerome rubbed the head of his dick up and down the folds of your pussy, making delicious contact with your swollen clit, before pressing into your sloppy wet hole.

 _"_ _Fuck_ _,"_ he moaned, his head tilting towards the ceiling, giving you a delicious view of his throat. 

Slowly, Jerome filled you to the brim with his cock, and you knew if he were any larger he simply would not have fit. But as he was he fit perfectly, almost as if you were made for each other.

You shook the thought from your head. It was a stupid one to think. Not that you were able to think much anyways, for he pulled himself out of you carefully before slamming himself back into you, drinking in your moan of surprise as he bumped against your cervix.

"You feel so _fucking_ good," he panted in your ear, leaning over your body as he set an ambitious pace. 

For a minute, there was no sound other than the lewd rhythm of skin-on-skin contact as he pounded into you coupled with heavy breaths and quiet moans. It was animalistic, his pupils blown wide as he stared into your eyes, forcing you to acknowledge him, making you remember that this was _his_ cock inside you, that _he_ owned you, that _he_ pleasured you to completion then took you like a conquest.

"Jerome!" you yelled as he hit your cervix over and over, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder in order to fuck deeper into you.

"I'd always heard that a tight pussy is a good pussy," he said, looking up into the air as if recalling a memory. "But I disagree."

He pulled out of you and slapped your thigh. You gasped with the mix of pain and pleasure, and he took advantage of your surprise, slipping two fingers into your mouth.

"You see, babydoll, I think that a _loose_ cunt is the best," he continued, pounding mercilessly into you as you whimpered around his fingers, sucking them. "Because when a pretty cunt like yours is _loose,_ that means I did my job, that means you _want_ my cock to split you open, you _want_ to come on it again, you're _desperate_ for it, aren't you?"

Unable to properly respond, you nodded vigorously and wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping the stark red hair that grew at the base of his head.

"A _loose_ cunt means you'd do anything to get my cock in there now, right, babydoll?" he asked, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

 _"Yes!"_ you cried out in response. He laughed lowly, placing his hand on your rapidly bouncing breasts before reaching down and putting his spit-slicked fingers on your swollen clit. 

You moaned wantonly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Jerome overstimulated your clit and your cervix to create a ticking time-bomb to your next orgasm. 

"You're such a good girl, taking my cock so good for me," he said, and you forced yourself to look at him, and there was his soft face again, the one that kissed you so plainly last year, the soft-spoken Jerome Valeska who had eluded you for three years.

You knew you were going to struggle to admit it later, but Jerome Valeska _did_ own your pussy, and you didn't want it any other way if he could make you cum so forcefully all the time. You would follow the circus if you had to just to keep his cock sheathed in your cunt, keeping him yours and yours alone, you would do anything for this enigma of a man pounding relentlessly into you.

"Are you ready to cum again?" Jerome asked, circling your abused clit roughly along with his ferocious strokes.

"Yes, _yes! Please!"_ you replied desperately, your voice cracking.

"Go on then, _cum_ _for me,"_ he ordered, grinning wickedly at you, his face contorting into that mischievous grin you saw earlier, only now it looked outright _demented,_ and it frightened you and aroused you seamlessly until you weren't sure who you were.

You screamed as you convulsed again, clenching his dick in your pussy as you rode out your second orgasm of the night. It rolled through you until your toes uncurled and you collapsed onto the bed, your chest heaving.

Jerome laughed. He pulled out of you, jerking his cock quickly, and pushed you off the bed. You fell to the ground with a _thud,_ your head spinning as you forced your limbs to hold you up. Jerome growled through gritted teeth and crawled forward towards the pillows at the head of the bed, then he shouted as he came, spilling his seed all over the pillows and the top of the sheet the poked out over the comforter. 

You were too weak to question him, too dizzy to even comprehend what was going on, but you knew there was something fucked-up happening and you had gotten wrapped up in it. But your head was so light, you didn't care, you lay back on the floor and stared blankly at the ceiling as you heard Jerome shift on the bed above you.

"Sweet dreams, _bitch_ _."_ Jerome spat on the bed. "May they be your last."

Your heart sped up as you concluded that _he was going to kill you, this was it, you knew it was too good to be true, holy_ _fuck_ _,_ but Jerome hopped off the bed and bent down to pick you up in his arms. He looked down at you, his eyes no longer dark with wicked arousal but warm and gentle.

"You, my dear, did _perfectly."_ He lifted you to your feet, gathering your clothes in order for you to redress. "That'll teach my whore mother to be a _whore_ _."_

Your eyebrows furrowed. _Did he just use you to get back at his mother?_ You pondered this for a moment before concluding that you didn't really give a shit, you just had the best sex of your life, so what if he ejaculated on his mother's pillow instead of inside you? It's all the same either way.

"Bathroom?" You asked, still quite out of it. "Gotta piss before I get a UTI."

Jerome gestured at the bed and giggled, but once he saw your unperturbed face, he rolled his eyes. Apparently you didn't indulge his joke, as you barely even understood it. He led you to the bathroom, and you could hear him getting dressed as you did your business, taking the opportunity to dress yourself as well in the small confines of the bathroom. 

When you exited the bathroom to find him almost expertly put back together as if nothing had happened, you wondered if this was something he did often. Something in you told you that this was the first time. 

"Are you coming to the bonfire?" You asked as he walked you to his door. 

He groaned. "No. I have to clean the place before mother returns. She'll be there though. Give her my regards."

"Will do," you replied, ignoring his death glare. Promptly, like turning on a light switch, he rolled his shoulders back and donned his signature gentle face.

"I'll see you around, then?" he asked, feigning an innocent smile.

"Sounds lovely," you replied coyly.

As he opened the door to allow you back into the chilly night, you touched him lightly on the cheek. He flinched but smiled politely at your fond embrace. You left his trailer, and once your were a few steps away, he slammed the door shut.

Your mind raced as you headed towards the celebration you could hear across the grounds. You had so many questions, but one stood out in your brain among the rest.

 _What the_ _fuck_ _just happened?_

**Author's Note:**

> hi again!
> 
> if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment, as i am an attention whore!
> 
> also, follow [my tumblr](http://jeromiah.tumblr.com) for more valeska goodness, and if you'd like to support my broke college ass, please consider [buying me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/beastieboys)
> 
> thanks, love you all!


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